


Memories

by babybutterbeans



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, mentioned isabela/merrill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:31:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3904846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybutterbeans/pseuds/babybutterbeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(based on a prompt I saw on tumblr)</p><p>Garrett Hawke finds a journal while waiting for a bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at about 1 AM, and finished at 3 AM, while extremely tired. So honestly I don't know if this is actually a coherent story, so please excuse any mistakes. But enjoy, i guess? c: 
> 
> actual prompt is:  
> "“I found your really nice leather journal and when I opened it to see if there was a name written in here somewhere I realized you don’t journal like a normal person. You just. You tape things in here and then you write little blurbs about each thing. There are movie stubs and little scraps of paper and concert tickets. Holy shit I think I fell in love with you.”  
> (i'll post the link in the end notes <3)

                Hawke wonders why everything in his life seems to go wrong all at once.

                First, his car died on his way to work, which prompted him to call Carver for a ride, which Carver was _not_ happy about. Then, his phone died at work, right at the beginning of his lunch break. He spent the following 20 minutes pestering his coworkers for a phone charger rather than eating, until his boss, Varric, threatened to start making Garrett work _very_ early morning shifts if he didn’t stop harassing his coworkers. Garrett didn’t usually use his phone at work other than during his lunch break, but just knowing that it was dead made him anxious. As his shift ended at around 6 PM, of course, it started to pour outside. He grabbed his phone to call Carver to drive him home. With an exaggerated wail of anguish, he realized that his phone was _still_ dead.

                Once again, he began pestering his coworkers for a phone to borrow to text his brother from. Isabela offered to let him use her phone, but only if he covered a shift for her next week on his only actual day off (she _swears_ that she’s going to be hungover on that day.) Merrill, however, simply giggled at Isabela’s offer and handed her phone to Garrett.

                “See?” He said loudly, “this is what a true friend looks like,” giving Merrill a hug, and for emphasis, picked her up from the ground briefly.

                “Ugh,” Isabela groaned, “you’re such a traitor.” She glared playfully at Merrill.

                Garrett quickly texted Carver, practically begging for a ride home as he looked out the window at the rainstorm outside.

                To his horror, Carver refused.

                So, that’s how Garrett Hawke ended up sitting alone on a bus stop bench, starving and slightly damp from his run from the shop to the (thankfully, _sheltered_ ) bus stop. He checked his watch almost constantly, hoping that doing so would somehow make the time go by faster. It was 6:15, but the next bus wouldn’t be around until 6:45. He groaned, realizing that only 30 seconds had passed since he last checked his watch.

                He sat there on the bench, fidgeting, desperate for something to kill time. He took his phone out of his pocket several times and tried to get it to turn on, but with no success. He resigned himself to playing a game of “I-Spy” with himself, observing his surroundings carefully, looking for anything even _remotely_ interesting to take his mind off of waiting.

                It took about 5 minutes for him to get bored of that. Fidgeting once again, he started observing the bus stop itself. It was pretty plain and boring, with names and phrases (many of which were definitely not family appropriate) scribbled on the walls. Eventually, for whatever reason, he ended up peeking below the bench he was sitting on.

                _Jackpot_ , he thought as he reached under the bench to grab something he saw.

                It was a journal. Garrett held it in his hands, staring at it intently. It was leather, very pretty and expensive looking. Or, well, it had been at one point. Now it just looked old and tattered, with pieces of paper sticking out between pages. Fortunately, it’d been spared by the rain, and looked to be in decent condition.

                Suddenly, he felt very guilty about having it. He realized that it must’ve belonged to someone for a very long time, considering the condition it was in. So, he decided that he would find out who it belonged to and return it right away. Which meant peeking inside the journal.

                Although he was eager to return it to its owner, the thought of reading someone’s personal journal made him feel a little queasy. So he, very carefully, as if he were afraid it’d fall apart at any second, opened the front cover, and to his dismay, it didn’t have any personal identifiers in it. He’d have to keep looking.

                What he immediately noticed, though, was that this wasn’t an ordinary journal. He’d expected pages of writing, but instead, he found photographs taped onto the first page. The photographs looked _old_ , slightly worn and faded from age. The first, and possibly oldest, photograph on the page was of two children playing. The older one, a boy maybe 6 or 7 years old, had darker skin and black hair. The girl he was playing with looked slightly younger than him, with pale skin, freckles, and red hair. They were both grinning happily, playing in the grass together. They looked nothing alike, except for the same big, green eyes. On the blank space next to the photograph was simply written “Varania.”

                Another photo on the page appeared to have been taken at the same time as the one before, but instead of the kids playing, it was of an adult woman. She sat in the grass in a slightly tattered old dress, staring off into the distance with a faint smile on her face. She looked very similar to the girl in the previous photograph, with the same bright red hair and big green eyes. Next to this photo was written “Mother.”

                Garrett wanted to stop looking at the journal. It was clearly very personal, but still, he wanted to find any information that might help him track down the owner, so he pressed on.

                As he flipped to the next page, time progressed. There were a couple more pictures of the two children, slightly older now, as well as photos of just… _anything_. Some photos had brief comments next to them, or dates, or names. There were photos of _ancient_ looking buildings, simple flowers blooming along a sidewalk, storm clouds… Garrett was _very_ intrigued.

                He flipped to the next page, and noticed that it contained more than just photographs. Old, wrinkled notes, receipts, movie tickets were now taped carefully alongside corresponding photographs. There were even _flowers_ , old and dried, that had once been pressed between the pages and left there. He couldn’t figure out the significance of these simple little mementoes, but he had noticed how the photos no longer contained people, just random moments captured on camera.

                Eventually, he came across more photos of the children from before. This time, it wasn’t a polaroid like most of the photos before, but instead a strip of four photos, like one that families would get on vacations and whatnot. They were older, in their teens at least, still smiling cheerfully as the photos were taken. The photo was old and slightly faded, and slightly crumpled. It was taped alongside a letter addressed to “Leto”. The letter was also clearly at least several years old, but it had been taken care of over the years. Garrett didn’t read the letter, drawing the line at _that_ level of privacy invasion, but he noticed the beautiful, careful handwriting, and the way it was signed _Varania_.

                _They must be siblings_ , Garrett thought, carefully turning to the next page.

                The items on this page were… _pristine_ , in stark contrast with the aged photographs and papers on the previous pages. They had been handled carefully, which he found surprising, until he realized that one of the receipts on the first page was dated only about a two years ago. It was the same with the rest of the items on the following pages, as well. The photographs were higher quality and in perfect condition, and the dates scribbled on the sides of the photos and on the various tickets and receipts were all within the last two years or so. There were fewer photographs of people, none of which were of Varania or the young man from before. _Leto_ , apparently. There were, however, a couple of photos of an older man with greying hair and a beard, labeled “Danarius.” Garrett couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy at those few photos.

                He began flipping through the pages, paying less attention to individual items and just looking for something that might tell him where he could find Leto to return the journal. After several pages, he saw one page that stood out. This page wasn’t carefully cluttered like the others. There was one photo taped carefully in the center of the page. At first, the man wasn’t familiar. It was slightly blurry, as if the person in the photo didn’t realize that it was being taken, but Garrett could clearly make out the same dark skin and big green eyes as the photos of Leto from before, but now, the man was running a hand through his bright, silvery-white hair, and there were white tattoos that curled elegantly down his chin, down and across the bit of his neck that wasn’t covered by his plain t-shirt, and all over his arms and hands. _It has to be the same guy_ , Hawke thinks. Beneath the photograph, in an elegant, cursive script that _definitely_ didn’t belong to the same man who had written the journal before, was written a phrase:

_“Fenris – my little wolf.”_


	2. Chapter 2

                Eventually, Hawke came across an envelope taped to a page that had been addressed to “Fenris”, from Danarius. Scribbled next to the envelope was a little description. It said simply: _“The last letter he sent. Kept the envelope, burned the letter.”_

                Garrett couldn’t help but feel a bit worried about that description. But that was quickly replaced with excitement and he noticed the address on the envelope. He recognized it; it was an apartment building maybe three blocks from the bus stop he was currently sitting at. Merrill used to live there, until she moved in with Isabela.

                Just then, he realized that his bus was approaching. He looked at the bus, then at the journal, then back at the bus… It was still raining heavily, but it wouldn’t take him long to reach the apartment building if he ran. But then he’d be stuck there without a ride back across town. He whined quietly and bounced on his heels as he panicked; he’d have to make his choice quickly. Without thinking, he started running in the direction of the building. _Well, I guess this is happening_ , he thought.

                It didn’t take him long to get there. He had the journal tucked carefully into his jacket to keep it safe from the rain, which didn’t matter because he had the apartment number memorized. He walked inside the building, immediately sighing in relief at the warmth; he was soaked from running that far in the rain.

                He slowly made his way up the couple flights of stairs to the man’s apartment, suddenly very nervous. What if he thought that he’d stolen it? Or what if he’ll be angry because Garrett had read through some of the journal?

                _He’s definitely gonna be angry_ , Garrett thinks, feeling his heart start to race.

                Before he’s even realized it, he’s in front of the man’s door. Taking a deep breath, he gives it a couple sharp knocks, and waits. He hears some scuffling inside, then the sound of locks being unlocked, and the door is pulled open. The man inside looks exactly as he did in the last photo of him, with the white hair and tattoos. His eyes are narrowed in a glare.               

                “Can I help you with something?” He says, his voice low and almost a growl.

                _Oh shit, he’s hot_ , Garrett thinks. _Oh no, I’m blushing. And staring. Oh shit._

“Uh… are you…” Hawke suddenly panics. Is his name Leto or Fenris? “…Leto?”

                His glare intensifies.

                “What do you want?” He says, clearly very irritated. Garrett doesn’t miss the way that he seems to close the door slightly, as if he’s nervous that he might try to attack him or something.

                “Oh! I, uh, found this…” Garrett quickly reaches into his jacket and carefully pulls out the journal. “It was under the bench at the bus stop. It was raining, and I didn’t want it to get ruined or anything.”

                Leto, or _Fenris_ , simply stares at it in disbelief. Carefully, he reaches out and takes it from Hawke, holding it tightly in his hands, as if he were terrified he may lose it again.

                “I…” he said quietly, “I didn’t think I’d see this again. Thank you for bringing it to me.” His eyes were wide, still staring at the journal in his hands.

                “It’s no problem. I was in the area anyway, waiting for a bus. I hope you don’t mind, but I had to look through it a little bit to find out where to find you.” Hawke said nervously. Although he was quite a bit bigger than the other man, he still felt like he could kick his ass in a heartbeat if he needed to. Garrett _definitely_ did not want to get his ass kicked tonight.

                “Why are you all,” he gestured toward basically all of Hawke, “…damp?”

                “Oh, sorry, I ran here, and it’s raining _really_ hard outside.” He chuckled.

                “You went to all that trouble just to bring me this?” Fenris said quietly, sounding genuinely surprised.

                “Well, it wasn’t much trouble. I was only a few blocks away.” He shrugged.

                “You were waiting for a bus, you said?” he said quietly, and Garrett nodded. Fenris glanced down at the journal in his hands, then back at Garrett, before stepping aside and opening his door widely.        “There won’t be another bus for a while. You can wait here, if you’d like. It’s not much, but it’s better than waiting in the cold.”

                “You don’t have to do that just because I brought your journal back,” Hawke assured him.

                “This journal is very important to me, and I thought I’d never see it again,” Fenris said slowly, “I’m very grateful for your help. Offering you a place to wait out the rain until the next bus arrives is the least I can do.”

                “Okay, well, if you’re sure it’s alright…” Hawke grinned as he stepped inside. Fenris offered him a small, genuine smile in return.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt is from this blog:  
> http://awful-aus.tumblr.com/
> 
> It's a really great blog and I love it <3 so I might end up writing more based on prompts from there.


End file.
